The Girl with the Eye Patch
by FossilQueen1984
Summary: REBOOT of Tesseract Machine. Tintin's childhood sweetheart, Helene, returns after fighting with her mother. One problem, Helene traveled from a parallel universe. Can she help Tintin track down drug smugglers, find her father, and figure out why she is falling in love with Tintin? Why is Tintin falling in love her? They are just friends, right? Takes place in line with comics .
1. Prologue

The Girl with the Eye patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Here it is, my official reboot of my Tesseract machine story. This is pure science fiction, no crossovers of any kind. That said, I only own Helene and her mother Rosamund. All other characters are the intellectual property of their respected owners.

Suggested Soundtrack: Hedwig's theme- John Williams, Overture/Ice Dance- Danny Elfman

Prologue: The Russian Supercomputer

Five year old Helene Dupont could not imagine anybody in the right mind traveling to the Soviet Union. After all, they were allied with the Germans and anybody willing to side with them were not worth the dirt they lived on. However, Mother said they were going on business and there was no way Helene would be staying back in Brussels. Briskly crossing the square in front of the Kremlin, icy sheets at wind stung the girl's rosy cheeks. "Blasted wind! Momma, I'm getting chilled, are we ever going to get there?" Her melted amber eyes met her mother's, and the woman replied they would arrive very soon.

Two blocks later, Helene and her mother Rosamund had been checked into the hotel and decided to have an early supper in the ostentatious lounge. As Rosamund sat down at the bar nursing a gin and tonic, Helene began to wander around the area. She was a beautiful little girl, with wavy chocolate locks, amber eyes and a doll like complexion. She had made her way around the outermost wall facing the main doors, when she spotted someone her age reading _The New York Times_. He was about her age with ginger hair and impossibly blue eyes. Could it be his parents were here also on business?

Strolling over, she inquired, "Well, is there anything interesting today?" Startled, the boy turned around and glared at the girl who had bothered him. He sharply replied that so far nothing seemed to be of interest. Helene inquired why and the boy shook his head. "How should I know? Snakes, I'm only 5 years old. My name is Augustin Berlioz, and those are my parents," he kindly replied. Helene introduced herself and asked if he knew the latest football scores. Thrilled to find a football fan, the two children discussed their favorite teams.

At last, the adults stopped mingling and gathered their children. Before getting on the elevator, Helene called out, "Au revior, Monsieur and Madam Berlioz, good night, Tintin!" Tintin's parents chuckled and he blushed. That night before turning out the lights, Pierre Berlioz inquired to his son who the girl was. Tintin explained to his father that Helene and her mother were staying at the hotel for business, like they were. Pierre nodded, turned off the light and Tintin fell asleep to the sleep learning tapes his mother packed.

Over the course of several day, Rosamund Dupont became better acquainted with Pierre and Annette Berlioz as their children spent their days inside a nearby school for high ranking families. Pierre Berlioz, a direct descendent of Hector Berlioz, was an industry magnate from Ghent and his wife Annette was from a wealthy family outside Cannes. The Berlioz family was in Russia because the Transportation Office was interested in his business strategies. Rosamund explained she had been called to Siberia for something related to quantum physics. Rather conservative, Pierre wrote this off as pure science fiction and informed Rosamund she should be teaching science.

While the adults found themselves debating business protocol in the Soviet Union via the Belgian Embassy, Tintin and Helene became good friends. Tintin thought Helene was adventurous, brave and kind. Helene thought Tintin was clever, cautious and interesting. Both of them felt like they understood where the other was coming from, so after three months a deep bond had formed between them. By now, fear of international spies had reached a fevered pitch in Stalingrad and everyone at the hotel was screened as potential threats.

"The only way to be truly secure in this day and age," Pierre pontificated as an immaculate female KGB agent walked up to them. She smiled at him, "Comrade Berlioz, you and Comrade Dupont have been cleared of being a threat to our Great Father, as have the children and your wife. That said, Inspector General Baryshnikov has extended a business holiday at one of the gulags outside Stalingrad. He is most interested in getting more resources for transportation in the area as it is rather shoddy. Shall we?" She smiled broadly and spoke kindly to Tintin and Helene about a grand adventure.

The train ride was about three hours long and the small town outside the barricaded prison was gloomy. The adults were ushered in as guests, Tintin and Helene racing to keep up with their parents. Greeting them at the command center, a tall, bony man with thinning gray hair and high cheek bones saluted them in greeting. Saluting in reply, the Belgian squadron was greeted in a friendly matter. Tintin and Helene were given hot cocoa and puzzle books sponsored by the Lenin Youth movement. Baryshnikov spoke slowly and in a hushed tone to the adults. The railroads leading in and out of the camp were sabotaged nearly every day and he going insane trying to figure it out. The Soviet camp director instructed Rosamund that a new vein of gold had been discovered on the outermost fringes of the campus. Since she was good at physics, he requested her assistance to help a team of surveyors and geologists devise the best way to dig the gold out without upsetting numerous surrounding mine shafts.

Not wanting to disappoint, Pierre and Rosamund quickly and warmly accepted the orders, swallowing disgust and terror. Annette Berlioz was allowed to spend the days with the officer's wives while Tintin and Helene were to attend the local school. Tintin and Helene refused, they did not want to become Communists. However, their pleas fell on deaf ears and they were enrolled post haste.

Days seemed to go on for eternity inside the gulag, or so it seemed to Tintin and Helene. Every morning at 7:30 am, they ate breakfast before two heavily armed guards escorted them to school. From there, it was rigorous academics in the Cyrillic alphabet. The local kids avoided them, and Tintin and Helene kept to themselves. After school was over, they would be escorted to the base and completed their homework in the command center's common area. Afterwards, Tintin would visit with his mother and tell her all about her day. Rosamund would not return to Helene's sight until dinnertime and Helene was jealous. She lodged a formal complaint, but was told her mother was doing a great service for the Soviet Union. Near to Christmas, the drafts for the new mine entrance was completed and Rosamund was allowed to spend a week with her daughter. Helene had never been so happy to see her mother as she was that afternoon. Happy times did not last much longer as Pierre and Rosamund were drafted to aid repairing the railroad line. It would be that day that would inadvertently change everything.

Rosamund was suddenly paranoid, convinced somebody was spying on her. Routes were only used once a day, maybe twice. Pierre's comments to some of the prisoners on rail line duty got him beat up, and he received thirteen stiches in his right leg in the clinic. Muttering about how unfair they were, he ambled outside the clinic when he spotted a gang of men with blowtorches and jugs of water. Yelling at them, he led them on a chase when he collided with Baryshnikov. The Soviet leader was peeved about the blood all over his new suit, but nearly had a heart attack when he saw the men dispersing.

Calling for his soldiers, the men were rounded up and shot right on the spot. Tintin and Helene, who had been playing in the snow, saw the guns fire and ran away when the storm troopers advanced. Running deeper into the woods, Helene wept openly as Tintin attempted to remain stiff lipped. In the end, this failed and they cried about the unfairness they had witnessed. As Helene stood up, she slipped down an icy ravine towards the foot to a cave. "Helene, Helene! Are you all right," Tintin called anxiously. Sliding down the slope, he called out again and embraced her when he caught up.

"Jeesh, get offa me! I told you I was okay," Helene insisted as Tintin looked around the cave. The whole cavern was composed of ice, no icicles and it turned to one side. Curiosity got the better of them and they walked along the path. As Helene skipped on ahead, Tintin spotted a bag and picked it up. Placing it in his backpack, he ran and he nearly fell on his face when gasped, "Great snakes! What is that, Helene?"

"I have no idea. It looks like a supercomputer. If it is a supercomputer, what's it doing underground?"

A joint decision was made to examine the Soviet supercomputer. It was comprised of stainless steel and granite. Jewel encrusted buttons laid along several displays that were just out of reach. Silvery strands of aluminum wiring limply meandered into a solid bedrock outcropping. Markings were etched in it, but they were not in the Cyrillic alphabet. One thing was obvious, the Soviets had no idea it was here.

"Tintin, let's press some buttons. Maybe something will happen."

"What will happen if we get in trouble? I don't want to get shot."

"We are not going to get shot. Besides, I showed you how to shoot that revolver last month, remember?"

"Oh yes, I do remember. All right then, we'll push together."

Pushing down on as many buttons as they possibly could, loud mechanical wheezes and groans erupted from the granite and steel block. Tintin and Helene jumped back in surprise and were about to abandon ship when the bedrock glowed neon hues and from it a fresh breeze could be felt. Just then, a human shaped object stepped through the doorway.

Agog at his surroundings, he spoke quietly to the children, "Well hello there, little voyagers. What are you doing in the cave all on your own?" He was tall and fair haired, and Tintin and Helene warily informed him about who they were, what they were doing and then wanted to know who he was. The man chuckled, "It doesn't matter about me, Tintin. I do think it is time for you to escort the young woman home." Helene stared at the man, how did he know about the nickname she had given Augustin?

Racing back to the camp in record time, Tintin and Helene were informed that they and their families were being sent back to Stalingrad. With the business items taken care of, Baryshnikov was sending them back. On the train, the children spoke nonstop about what had happened. While Pierre and Annette wrote it off as a daydream, Rosamund was on the brink of tears. At the hotel, Rosamund checked out and while they waited, Tintin asked, "Will I ever see you again, Helene? I found this in the cave."

The cab horn blared and Helene waved goodbye, vowing never to forget her best friend. At the Stalingrad station, Rosamund hurried her daughter on board and neither spoke until they had passed into Budapest. Remembering the bag, Helene opened it and squealed in delight. Inside the linen bag was a delicate pendant of silver interspersed with amber and mother of pearl. Rosamund informed her daughter that in the Soviet Union, such necklaces were given to the person you were destined to marry. The thought of marrying Tintin made Helene laugh, he was her friend and you couldn't marry your friend.

A patch of black ice forced Rosamund to swerve and out of nowhere a Jeep careened into them, shattering glass, metal, flesh and bone. The last noise Helene heard before passing out was a furious screech of tires and then a painful emptiness. The Hungarian responders drive the injured females to the nearest hospital. It was nearly two weeks before Helene recovered enough to make the trip back to Brussels with her mother. In the accident, glass slivers had sliced her left retina, leaving her nearly blind in her left eye, peripheral vision was spared. To add insult to injury, she had to wear an eye patch and people in public started patronizing her. Helene would snap back at them, refusing to believe she was helpless.

Back in Brussels, Rosamund's paranoia hit its peak, and on a stormy night Rosamund carried her sleeping daughter as they melted into the nearby forests. Nearing a deep gorge, Rosamund took a deep breath and flung herself in. Landing with a splash, mother sloshed in the midnight rain and soon arrived a well maintained townhouse. Ringing the front door, Rosamund was greeted by none other than her old college classmate, Georges Remi also known as Herge. Smiling softly, he offered them sanctuary. The door closed, and the storm continued to bellow outdoors.

Hours later, Rosamund introduced her daughter to their host, "Helene sweetheart, I want you to meet somebody. This is your Uncle Herge, and he is an old friend of mine." Helene gazed at him, the man who had met her and Tintin back in the Soviet countryside. Settling back into the flannel sheets, Helene silently cried fearing she would never see Tintin again.


	2. Chapter 1: Ten Years Later

The Girl with the Eye patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: How about that, quantum physics and tesseracting all in the prologue. You can relax, anything science fiction related is on the level of a Madeline L'Engle novel. As usual, I only own Helene and her mother Rosamund. Helene is voiced by Kiera Knightly and resembles her as well in the role of Anna Karenina, only at age 15 and a bit. All other characters belong to their creators.

Suggested soundtrack: The Days Between/Princess Leia's theme- John Williams, Doctor Who theme from 2005- Murray Gold, Land of the Impure- Joe Hisaishi

Chapter 1: Ten Years Later

It was early spring in Brussels, the trees and parks were gracefully decked out in pastels and joyful bursts of solid yellow, aubergine, and scarlet as though to subtly protest the harsh regime of the Nazi backed puppet government. Walking down the cobbled sidewalk, a slender girl of fifteen wheeled her bicycle around crates of rubbish and idle locals waiting for a cab. Her wavy, chocolate hair was simply braided with some curls hiding a leather eye patch over left eye. Parking her bike, she stepped into the grocer's and proceeded to pick up the items.

"Let's see here, what did Mum want this week? Milk, eggs, cheese, fish- preferably not sardines, veal, the usual. 4 francs for a half-gallon of milk? This is insane, last week milk cost half that," she sourly commented as she headed towards the check-out line. Locals were complaining about the price hikes but the Germanic thugs inside the threshold rolled their eyes. As Helene maneuvered her way towards the door, one of the soldiers extended his boot and over she went, sprawled on the front walk in a most unladylike manner. Fuming, she shouted at the guards, "Don't you morons have anything better to do?" The taller of two retorted that she should be more careful, but being half-blind did not help. Pulling his revolver, Helene muttered an apology and mustered up the nerve to throw in a _Seig Heil! _for appeasement.

Thankfully, the eggs were still intact as Helene rode her bike back towards the townhouse she shared with her mother, Uncle Herge and Germaine. Parking her bike in the back shed, she sat down in the rear garden's gazebo and gave some thought to her current situation. After their arrival in Brussels, Rosamund had gotten a job teaching physics at a university and the two had argued about Helene's unnaturally strong desire to return home. Home was where her father was, where Tintin was. She had run away so many times, her mother started referring to her as a ghost. Adding to her angst was the fact people refused to treat her like an ordinary girl.

Because of the eye patch, her teachers expected very little from her in the way of coursework and demanded numerous extra examples whenever she completed a project. On top of that, people would verbally abuse her and throw lunchboxes at her. Now that she was fifteen, she had been to the Head's office on more than one occasion for instigating fist fights. Ten years hard hardened her heart and left her with the unquenchable desire to prove herself independent and capable. Letting out a sigh form the soles of her feet, Helene stalked into the kitchen and began to put the groceries. A cheerful voice called down the stairwell, "Helene dear, are you home? I'm glad your back. Hey, how was the market?" Germaine Remi smiled cheerfully at the melancholy teenager. Helene smiled back and commented about her rough go of it at the market. Germaine nodded in agreement, the Nazi thugs really were making daily life difficult.

Drinking some seltzer water, Helene inquired, "Where is Mum? She said she had some errands to run and then she was coming home for lunch." Germaine replied that was what she had heard and Helene excused herself to her room. Closing the door, Helene moved the pile of books and began devouring Uncle Herge's latest masterpiece, _L'Ille Noir_. She had been rather shocked learning that her uncle was the creator of the parallel universe where she had been born. Was it possible that Tintin remembered her? She was never mentioned in his adventures, but it was apparent that time elapsed between then. It was ten years since she had left, she wanted to go on adventures with him. Everyone needed a friend, and Tintin could use some human company besides Milou.

Humming Isadore Duncan's underground hit, a knock on the door broke the girl out of her daydreams. "Come on in, I'm alone," Helene announced. Walking in with a satchel filled with parchment, Rosamund smiled at her daughter. "Hi there, sweetie. I looked over your maps, these really are first rate. Thanks for running down to the market for me- mon dieu! Are you reading Tintin again? When are you going to realize that it's just a story?" Her eyes were burning, but Helene glared back.

Throwing her mother's satchel to the ground, she ranted, "I can't believe you said that, you know that's not true. I was born in Uncle's Herge's imaginary world, so were you and my father. It is not trash, I am going to find Tintin and I am going to find my father."

"Please don't bring your father into this. This will cause more trouble than he can handle right now."

"Aha, so you do know who he was. Tell me mother, why are you so worried about me?"

Unable to answer, Helene screamed like a banshee and slammed the door. The nerve of her mother, denying everything. What was there to be afraid of? Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to remember her father and for a moment she could feel the ocean breeze on her cheeks but then it faded. Down in the kitchen, Aunt Germaine was on the telephone. Walking out the front door, Helene wandered around the neighborhood until she found herself in a well-kept industrial park. There were numerous businessmen walking about, smoking cigarettes and playing chess. Passing by mirrored glass, Helene had a chance to examine her form. A navy blouse and grey pleated skirt falling at her calves, socks and penny loafers. Reaching into her messenger bag, she pulled out the necklace Tintin had given her. It danced gaily in the sunlight and she felt happier.

Moving amongst the suited interns, she heard a couple of them make reference to some strange machine housed in the basement. The office rumours had it as some sort of prototype, a supercomputer. Helene's heart raced, could it be true? Darting off towards the central offices, she scurried unnoticed towards the basement. Her heart swelled with anticipation, she was finally going home. The basement was dusty, poorly lit and reeked of sewage and decaying electronics. Stumbling over stairs buried under paperwork, she righted herself and let her eye become adjusted to the dim area. The basement was gigantic, and with rubbish littering the floor, how was she going to find a supercomputer? As Helene wandered around, she caught sight of a mechanical dragon lurking under the stairwell.

"There you are, you overworked furnace. I hope it still works," Helene commented dryly as she began typing random buttons. Wishing to go home to Tintin, the machine beeped loudly as lasers engulfed her. Laughing in excitement, Helene levitated above the floor and was surrounded by a gust of cool air and multicolored lights. The floor split asunder, down she went. The cement slammed shut and the metal box collapsed in on itself.

Helene felt giddy as she flew through time-space, she was finally going home. The freedom was bittersweet, but she was grown up now. Time to live her own life, and this would be an excellent first step. Soon, she heard voices, music and birds chirping. One of Brussels' many open air markets swirled around her like an Impressionist painting before solidifying. As the area enveloped her, Helene fainted from the spinning sensation. Crying softly, she looked at the surroundings through her fingers, whispering, "I can't believe it, I'm here. I'm home." Carefully standing up, she walked through the food stalls, when she felt something run into her and howl sadly. Spinning around, it was Milou! Chuckling, she knelt down and scooped up the fox terrier. Milou was anxious about this strange girl holding onto him, why was she calling him by his name?

Just then, an overweight butcher ran towards her, waving his cleaver wildly. "Hey, hey fraulin! Your rotten mongrel ate my sausages, you owe me 5 francs." Snorting heavily, Helene shelled out the bill and was about to leave when he grabbed her shoulder. "You still have to pay," he muttered. Helene groaned, this was the last thing she needed. Losing his grip to a rack of ties, she dashed off towards the antiques area, Milou at her heels. He did not know who she was, but she had saved him and he liked how quick and clever she was. He liked her immensely, and Milou was certain Tintin would love her as a mate.

Worn out from the running, Helene collapsed onto a metal bench, and spoke to Milou, "Whew, we gave him quite the run didn't we? I am Helene, and I knew your master back when we were tykes. I wonder where he is." Milou barked when he smelled Tintin. Sure enough, a young man about fifteen years old with a quiff of ginger hair arrived on the scene and called out in a clipped accent, "Milou, where are you? Here boy. There you are, I really wish you wouldn't wander off like that. Come back here." The journalist darted off after his terrier, and his impossibly blue eyes lit up with excitement when he spied the familiar sylph perched on the bench.

Kneeling, he took her dainty hands, kissed them softly and whispered, "Bonjour, Mademoiselle Helene. It has been far too long." Blushing, Helene laughed and embraced him in a tight hug. "Tintin, oh it's wonderful to see you again. It has been far too long. How are you, and what are you doing?" Standing up, she offered Tintin a hand and he smiled. It was terrific seeing her again, but something seemed off. Her normally jovial aura was subdued and her left eye sported a patch. What had happened? The clock tower chimed 11:30, nearly lunch time.

Offering her his arm, Tintin suggested they get lunch. Arm in arm, the reunited friends headed towards a pub with Milou on their heels.


	3. Chapter 2: Together Again

The Girl with the Eye patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Hey there again, here is chapter 2. Still only own Helene and her mother. Everyone else belongs to Herge.

Suggested Soundtrack: Book of Days/Wild Child- Enya, A Summer's Day- Joe Hisaishi

Chapter 2: Together Again

Sitting down under the shadow of Brussels's main cathedral, Tintin and Helene munched on mules and frites. Ordering some tonic water and sandwiches, Tintin inquired to his companion, "It is wonderful to see you again, Helene. Where have you been all these years? I read about the accident, it seemed like you disappeared. You want to hear about me first? All right then, well I continued with schooling until about a year ago when I graduate secondary school a full year early, thanks to years of sleep learning. My father insisted I follow in the family business, but I wanted to study theoretical physics and anthropology. My reasoning was that by concentrating on these fields, sooner or later we would reconnect. Well, I was thrown out as a result and banned from returning to Ghent until I made something of myself. Thankfully, Mother's former nanny inherited a townhouse so I contacted Mrs Finch and I began writing for The Little Twentieth."

"As a journalist, I use the nickname you gave me as a tyke to protect my identity. You would not believe the scrapes I have gone through the last thirteen months. I trailed drug runners from Egypt to India, uncovered a conspiracy in China and met my best friend next to you, and overthrew a tyrant in South America. You know San Theodoros? Well, I had a hand in the coup d' tat but I was so outraged by the lack of action I drank too much and got hauled before a firing squad before I was rescued. Mind you I have sworn off all heavy alcoholic spirits. So Helene, what about you?"

Putting down her tuna salad, Helene cleared her throat before telling her life's story, "In the car accident, I lost nearly all the vision in my left eye, hence the patch. Mum and I became exiles." Tintin raised an eyebrow, and scolded gently, "Come on Helene, I know you better than that. What happened? Did it have something to do with one of your mother's experiments with theoretical physics?" He smiled gently and Helene figured she had better say it now and risk the rejection.

"One night, Mum and I…we jumped into a portal between universes and we ended up in a parallel Brussels. Everything was the same, the Nazis invading Belgium but the man we met in Russia…he is a comic book artist and you and Milou are characters of his." She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, waiting for the negative outbursts. Tintin patted her shoulder and reassured her everything was okay. He was flattered by this bit of information, something about Herge indicated he was well aware of the goings on.

Lunch ended and as they strolled about the Grand Place, Tintin inquired since she was permanently staying here this time, what was she going to do about a job and housing? Flustered, Helene admitted she hadn't even given it much thought but she was considering getting some job as a shop clerk and staying in a hostel.

Tintin would not hear of it, "For goodness sakes, Helene. You can stay with me, I have a spare bedroom. You know, I could use an assistant for my job. Would that suffice?" Happily nodding, she screamed excitedly and kissed Tintin on both cheeks. Milou danced between them, Helene was going to live with them. This was fortuitous indeed. However, Helene had to apply for a bank account and submit the proper paperwork.

At the courthouse, Helene learned her birth certificate and other legal papers were still on file, as were her grades in a bizarre twist. On top of that, Helene recalled a stray piece of paper in her bag's pocket. It turned out to be a code to a safety deposit box. At the bank, Helene learned that her mother had set aside a large amount of money for her disposal upon her fifteenth birthday. Helene was surprised, had her mother somehow known she would return one day? After opening an account, Tintin, Helene and Milou caught a tram across town to his office.

The building where the newspaper resided was squat and rectangular. Art Nouveau detailing clung to the window panes, and Helene stood for several moments admiring the detailing. Tintin nudged her, and opened the door for her. Helene giggled, Tintin was always the gentleman. All around Helene, reporters were clicking away at their typewriters, photographers dashed back and forth to confirm placements, printers were adjusting gears and article placements as the ever present cacophony of telephone chatter floated above everyone's heads. Nodding towards the main stairwell, Tintin escorted Helene to his editor's office.

The door to the editor's office was shut, when Tintin knocked on it. A sharp voice replied, "Come in, and please remember to shut the door. Oh, it's you Tintin. I see you brought Milou with you. Who is this, a friend of yours? Bonjour mademoiselle, I am Paulo Erasmus, editor of The Little Twentieth. Please take a seat, is there something I can help with you?"

Letting out a shaky breath, Helene requested a job as Tintin's assistant and photographer. Glancing uneasily at her eye patch, Erasmus inquired if was a problem. Stiffening, Helene's eyes narrowed as she retorted, "For your information, _sir_, I still have peripheral vision in my left eye. Yes, it can be a problem but I get around just fine." She balled up her fists and was about to slam them down on the desk when Milou wedged himself between and Helene. She sat back down, when Erasmus broke out laughing.

Wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, he wiped his eyes, "I'm sorry you took that the wrong way, but mon dieu! You are a firecracker, all right. Not many of the girls 'round here have spunk like you do. Congratulations, you're hired. Of course, I'll need some of your photographs by next week to run by the board of directors. Is that all right then?" He was smiling gently and Helene replied she would be honoured.

Before leaving, Tintin showed her his office and told her it would be easy to install a second desk for her if she liked. Grinning she replied, "That went better than I expected. But really though, why does everyone want to treat me as an invalid? Bollux, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She continued to rant on the trip to the photography shop. Tintin would shake his head, what had happened to the exuberant, joyful angel he knew as a child? The last ten years had turned her into an aloof spitfire who masked her pain with barbed insults and overdoing everything. There was nothing he could do about at the moment, Helene would have to figure out her obsession with proving her independence to her loved ones on her own.

The heavily wheezing store keeper scuttled out to greet his customers, "What can I get you?" His words slurred together as the man tapped his calloused fingers on the wooden shelves. Clearing her throat, Helene commented that she had just landed a job as a photographer and needed a simple camera that would get the job done. The man gestured towards his shiny wares and told them to have a look see. Helene scoured the rangefinder section, and found one she liked.

Triumphantly marching up to the counter, Helene proclaimed, "Here you are, sir. One rangefinder camera and three rolls of film. How much do I owe you?" Without taxes, the total cost 152 Belgian francs. Helene was annoyed by the price, but her camera was state of the art and nearly everything electronic had a 6.5% import tax added in. Tintin chuckled sympathetically as they strolled along the boulevards towards the Grand Place and the open air market. An idea struck Helene, why not shoot a few photos there? Beaming, Tintin agreed that she had a most brilliant idea.

The sun was playing hide and seek with high clouds as Helene poked around stalls and tents, scanning patterns and arrays for worthy picture targets. Not many tables passed her tests, but she took several of glass objects on an inlaid table. With the sun reflecting through the cut glass at a sharp angle, delicate patterned shadows formed. Also of interest were some Italian war widows hawking kitschy Madonna and Child sculptures. Juxtaposed to a smoldering cigar precariously perched on a terracotta butter dish, it was a surreal scene. _Click_!

It was at this point Milou had begun to frantically paw at the ground and whimper. Tintin took the fox terrier for a bathroom run while Helene began to take pictures. As she peered through the port, she spied the mad butcher from the other day. He was constantly scanning the crowd, as though he was waiting for someone. Interest piqued, Helene wandered away from Tintin and Milou and staked out a spot next to a trailer selling soup and sandwiches.

She didn't have to wait long because an ordinary grocer's van pulled up and two greasy men jumped out, and the butcher gestured for them to follow. Suspicious, Helene tailed them until she could see them without getting found out. Clicking away, she made mental notes of what was exchanged when sirens blared. The butcher and his cronies fled as did Helene, hoping she had not been noticed.

Crossing the quad, she ran into Tintin and Milou. Helping her up, Tintin joked, "Running away from the police? You needn't worry, what's wrong?" His eyes narrowed as Helene informed him of what she witnessed. Leaving by another way, Tintin and Helene ducked into a public use photo gallery and rented the black room for a couple of hours.

As the color film continued to develop, Helene anxiously paced back and forth hoping to figure out what she had caught on film. Tintin was impressed with the results thus far, Helene's still lives were starkly beautiful and simply elegant. So, what was bothering her? Before he could ask, Helene answered his questions, "I really can't believe it, he threatens me earlier and now he meets with gangsters in the back alley." Tintin agreed with her, something was off about this whole situation.

By now, the photographs Helene had taken in quick succession had fully turned out. As expected, the first two or three were slightly blurry but the rest were clear and revealed something sinister. The butcher appeared to be paying the two other fellows cash for bulky bundles that were hastily bound and clearly soaked in blood. While that was to be expected, what got Tintin and Helene's attention was the delivery method. Something was definitely going on, and now Tintin and Helene had their first story together. Together again and starting off on another adventure. Life could not get any better, or so Helene thought.

Once the photographs had dried, Helene mailed them to the office while Tintin phoned Thompson and Thomson. He explained to Helene they had met some months ago during his adventures in Asia. Maybe they knew what was going on. Sure enough, there was a rap, rap, rapping at the chamber door and two voices called out, "Hallo Tintin? It's us Thompson and Thomson, may we come in? We would like to speak to your lady friend about the photographs she took." Opening the door, Tintin showed the officers in and introduced them to Helene.


	4. Chapter 3: Butcher of Barcelona

The Girl with the Eye patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Well folks, Saturn is dumping buckets of snow over in my neck of the woods. Never fear because chapter three is here! Huge kudos to Pink Pencil Girl and Dancer1023 for their helpful reviews! As usual, I only own Helene and Rosamund. All other characters belong to their creators.

Suggested Soundtrack: Emperor's Theme/Imperial March- John Williams, Arrietty's Song- Hisaishi's rendition

Chapter Three: Butcher from Barcelona

The two Interpol agents doffed their hats to Tintin's lady friend and made themselves comfortable on the couch. Retrieving the photographs, Tintin entered the sitting room just as Helene returned with some tea. She asked excitedly, "Tintin told me about how you two saved his life in British Palestine with help from Milou. Is that really true?" Tintin blushed when Helene mentioned this, it had not been one his finer moments.

"Oui, it is true. We bailed out your boyfriend because we thought he was a drug smuggler of all things. Luckily Milou was able to help us locate him."

"Blimey, Thomson! You made them blush, it is obvious they are not courting."

"Sorry about that, so can I take a look at the photographs? Good god, it's him!"

"Him who? Oh _him!_ You caught him on camera at last. Too bad he has Franco as a contact."

Tintin and Helene exchanged a glance, how did Helene's butcher know the Spanish dictator? Milou barked in agreement, what was going on? The Thom(p)sons explained that a man known as Paco Flores Rivera was a prominent butcher in Barcelona. After Franco seized power, Flores Rivera offered him the bodies of political enemies served in ceviche, tapas, and soup! Franco was disgusted, but impressed. Dubbed the Butcher of Barcelona by Interpol, he escaped with help from Franco's underlings and was residing in Brussels. Any attempt to bring in would be hindered by German red tape and corrupt Spanish officials.

By now, the hour was growing late, so the officers took their leave but not before congratulating Helene for spot on job with her photography. Helene smiled, there was something she was good at even with only one eye. Tintin felt obliged to add more, she was amazing just being herself. He had always thought so, but as they meandered towards Flores Rivera's shop the feelings seemed to spike. Shaking his head, Tintin forced the awkward feeling to the pit of his stomach. She was friend, nothing more. Besides, she probably felt the same way.

Maestro's Meat Market was situated nor more than a quarter mile from their flat, and as Tintin, Helene and Milou rounded towards the alley, a strange whiff lured Milou away from the humans. Barking, he trotted back to his owners and wagged his tail. "You've found something, Milou! Wonderful! Can you show me?" A basement window opened up into the alley, so Tintin and Helene were able to look inside from an angle.

At first, the room looked like any other store room. Giant freezers will filled with meat, ovens roasting cuts for pick-up and delivery, but the meat was not from any known animal. There was a large oven and something was burning. It was now Milou found his way inside via piping and was soon on the floor! "Mon dieu, look at what you have done, Milou," Helene scolded sharply. Crawling through the window, she landed with a plop.

Her amber orbs widened with fright as a fire crackled and a finger bone launched itself at the wall. Screaming, she ducked and Tintin nearly lost his lunch when Helene held it out for him to see! It was a bone from a human hand, Flores Rivera was channeling his inner Sweeny Todd. How many people had he murdered? Helene froze when she realized she could have been his latest victim. Taking photos of the damning evidence, she had just slid Tintin the camera when a door slammed nearby, leaving Helene and Milou stranded!

Hiding behind the stairwell and crouching in the shadows, terrier and girl anxiously watched Flores-Rivera drag his latest victim to a prepping table. The trembling youth had bruises all over his face, make up smeared with blood, gold flaked lashes sticking to his forehead. Tintin glared at the Spaniard, how dare this monster attack anyone. Even prostitutes had a right to live. It wouldn't be long before he discovered Helene and Milou.

Hoping she would think of something, Tintin entered through the shop's front door before racing towards the door leading to the basement. Several employees yelled at him as he quickly escaped and looked at every doorway. He was in such a hurry not to be hauled away, Tintin nearly missed the door he was looking for. It was grey and hidden behind an old refrigerator box. Drawing his pistol, he kicked in the door and bolted down the stairs shouting, "Don't move, if you hurt Helene I'll kill you!" He mentally kicked himself for saying that, he would come across as having romantic feelings for her, which he did not have. Didn't he?

While Tintin had been making his way towards the basement, Flores Rivera ripped the boy's trousers from his underfed torso before gutting him like a fish. Taking the liver, Rivera savoured it like a rare meat and began to douse the body in salt when Milou darted round and bit the murderer in the buttocks. Screaming, he threw Snowy towards an oven but the terrier held tight as Helene pulled out a serrated knife and cut off his hand. This was where Tintin entered the fray.

Looking up in relief, Helene cried joyfully when Tintin embraced her. He was there, and he was safe. She was still a little flushed from her encounter and from what Tintin had said earlier. He was handsome and her heart would skip whenever he smiled. _Pull it together, he's just your friend,_ she mentally chided while she aided Tintin in binding their suspect, attending to his wounds and calling the police.

Twenty minutes later, the whole block was quartered off as Belgian officers interviewed everyone and led Flores Rivera away. Forensics specialists cleaned out the basement and credited Tintin and Helene with breaking the case. Their picture was taken as they were escorted back to the flat.

The following morning, Helene Dupont was revealed to the Belgian public and was hailed as a quick thinking heroine worthy of being Tintin's partner. The word weighed heavily on her mind as they ate a quiet lunch in a bistro near the University of Natural Sciences. Graduate students had been called in to help identify remains and perform autopsies. Now, here they were, together and enjoying every moment.


	5. Chapter 4: The Journal

The Girl with the Eye patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Saturn really turn out to be as horrible as everyone thought it would be, but I did get the subplot with the butcher wrapped up. With that out of the way, what will happen next? As usual, I only Helene and her mother. All other characters belong to their respective creators and owners.

Suggested Soundtrack: Princess Leia's theme & Solo and the Princess- John Williams, Arrietty's Song- Cecile Corbel and the electronica version

Chapter Four: The Journal

During the friendly luncheon, Helene finally realized how surreal life had become recently. First of all, she had tesseracted back to her home universe where everything was mostly the same, she was sharing an apartment with Tintin and Milou, and now she had captured a serial murderer all within 48 hours. Sipping her iced tea, her melted amber eyes fell onto Tintin's lean frame as he leaned over to refill Milou's water bowl.

He was somewhat short, but several inches taller than she was. His features were sharper, but the boyish charm was still there. Was it possible to go from deep friendship to love within such a short time? Was it love, or was it old fashioned teenage lust brought on by raging hormones? They were both fifteen, for God's sakes. Clearing her head of such disturbing thoughts, Helene settled on giving her feelings some more time. Unbeknownst to her, Tintin had been dealing with the same feelings and had taken the same course of action.

It was here that a local band started warming up their instruments and began playing some pieces in line with Nazi ideology. One of the songs was a rather melancholy waltz with lilting rifts and melodic intervals. Standing up, Tintin offered Helene his arm as they made their way towards the dance floor. Helene blushed, "Tintin! What are we doing? I've never danced before in public." Tintin chuckled, "Neither have I, but I would enjoy your company for a dance." Offering her an open arm, Helene joined him as he led her in a slow waltz.

Allowing herself to escape into the music, Helene rested her head on Tintin's shoulder as he gracefully danced with her to the music. Letting out a contented sigh, Helene closed her eyes and smiled softly. Tintin blushed, was he really falling in love with dearest friend? The waltz melted into a faster paced version that required a quicker pace. Tintin and Helene quickened their timing, but never let go of each other. As the songs ended, people clapped and cheered before leaving for their jobs and chores.

Milou trotted with the humans as Helene dropped into several boutiques to purchase some sorely needed new clothes. She explained to Tintin she liked what she was wearing but did not want to wear it every day of the week. He agreed and was compliant to hold her purchases and blushed when she purchased new undergarments. It took a couple of hours, but soon Helene had purchased numerous articles of clothing to her liking. Included were single colored linen and cotton frocks, shirts, skirts, underwear and everything else. She had even purchased a nightgown, refusing to sleep in the nude for another night.

Upon arriving back at the apartment, Tintin inquired if Helene needed any help putting her things. Smiling she replied, "No, I have this under control. Thanks though." With that she closed the door to the guest room, while Tintin starred at the empty space longingly. It was tricky getting used to permanent company again, excluding Milou. The terrier yipped a question and breaking out of his thoughts, Tintin quickly began warming up leftovers.

That night, a horrible lightning storm over the Brussels metropolitan region making a good night's difficult. Helene stuffed her head under the pillows and managed to drift off, but it was harder for her gracious host. First of all, Milou had taken shelter under his bed and would not stop howling until he was allowed to sleep at the foot of his master's bed. After drifting off for a while, his pent up feelings for Helene would find another outlet and Tintin for the third night in a row had to make a late night laundry run in his flat. If his raging hormones didn't kill him, chances were it was going to be a stray bullet on his and Helene's next adventure.

The next adventure began as many of them did, without any fanfare. The open air market was under cover because of the rain and Tintin and Helene decided to take in some sightseeing before tourists crowded them out. By the time they had reached the Grand Place, plastic tarps had been draped all over to keep storekeepers and customers dry. A certain book cart had piqued Helene's interest, so she and Tintin stopped by their first. The bookseller, a petite woman from Oslo smiled when she saw them, such an adorable couple. Browsing through the periodicals, Tintin saw some magazines he wanted to pick up while Helene rummaged through baskets of dated notebooks and playbooks. Nearly all of them were bound in secondhand leather, some reeked of mothballs and old plants, but one seemed familiar.

Slowly opening it up, Helene let out a soft gasp. She recognized the handwriting as her mother's, how had her mother's journal ended up? Another bit of motherly foresight or mere coincidence? Excitedly, she tugged at Tintin and hopped from one foot to the other as he coaxed Milou over to join him. Glancing over her shoulder, he inquired, "What is it, Helene? Did you find something?" From the way she was acting, it was apparent she wanted to keep this a secret from everyone else besides them.

"Tintin, this notebook was my mother's! Look at the handwriting and sketches, they're a bit messy but this belonged to her."

"Great snake, you are correct! Why on earth is something of your mother's here? Wouldn't she have taken it with you when you left?"

"I really don't know, but I want to buy it. Maybe I can gain some insight into what she was experiencing at the time she was writing this."

"Agreed. Excuse me, madam, but my companion would like to purchase this notebook. Could you please enlighten us as to how you acquired it?"

The crone glanced at the journalists, then at the notebook, then back at the teenagers and canine. Taking note from where it was found, she pulled out a cash drawer and replied, "That'll be 4 pounds even, young lady. Where did I find? Oh Lor', must 'ave found it nine or ten years ago at a rubbish sale down at the University. Lovely little book, that is, well cared for." Smiling, she hoped they were able to locate the owner.

Thrilled with the find, Tintin and Helene ducked into the nearest pub to examine their find. Opening the cover, it was discovered that the owner was indeed Helene's mother, Rosamund Dupont. From the dates covered, Tintin and Helene deduced it was written during Helene's early years as her development was mentioned as were graduate classes in the physics department. Besides the usual thoughts and gossip, there were numerous sketches and diagrams of machines and devices argued about by scientists and politicians.

Only two things in the enigmatic diary captured the attention of Tintin and Helene. First of all, several pages had been torn out as though what they contained had been unimportant. Also, there was a list of coordinates that were badly smeared. It was only by rubbing the back of the paper with a pencil led that Helene and Tintin were able to see them.

Gripping Tintin's free hand tightly, Helene said, "Holy vashta Nerada! Do you know what this means? It means something happened, this journal proves it. I have to get to the university." She was about to stand up when Tintin gently pulled her back down to her chair. Laughing kindly, he instructed her they needed to go about this the right way. First of all, what information Roasmund Dupont had removed could have been easily thrown away. Secondly, who was to say the coordinates led somewhere else? Then again, it seemed unlikely for a theoretical physicist to knowingly discard pages from her own diary on a whim. Knowing Rosamund, Tintin hypothesized that whatever she had done with them, more likely the pages were somewhere in her file cabinet at the University's Physics offices.

Helene nodded, Tintin was correct about looking at all the information before heading in gung ho, but at the same time she was impatient with the procedure they had to follow as respectable and ethical journalists. Why did finding answers have to take so damn long? Strolling along a covered pathway near the Botanical Gardens, Tintin merely chuckled and assured her that once their investigation provided some actual answers, that was when everything would hit a break neck speed.


	6. Chapter 5: Heart of the Matter

The Girl with the Eye patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows, makes it worth updating. In case you are still confused, Rosamund is still in the 'real-life' universe with Herge. I hope that helps. Again, I only own the female leads and nothing else. On with the chapter! Alembick would be voiced Sir Alec Guinness, but since he has died Ian McKellan will do the voice acting job.

Suggested Soundtrack: The Reptile Room/Pasta Puttanesca/The Letter that Never Came- Thomas Newman, Lothlorien/Marbeld Halls- Enya

Chapter Five: Heart of the Matter

With the journal now in her possession, Helene had millions of questions flitting about her head while she and Tintin admired the springtime blossoms and scurrying rodents and birds. What had been her mother been working on, how was Uncle Herge related to this, and who had been stalking her? Flinging out breadcrumbs to the frenzied geese, Helene mused, "For all her insistence that _this_ was all a dream, she sure has plenty of skeletons in her closest. If she knew I was going to return, why not tell me?" Sitting down a marble bench, Tintin threw a stick for Milou to fetch while they spoke on the matter between themselves.

Reaching an arm casually around her, Tintin turned to her. Looking into her amber eyes, he queried, "I am sure your mother was trying to protect you, it's something they do. Remember that it was both of you that tesseracted, right? When you told me she was paranoid about being stalked, it would have been very easy to have left you here, at the mercy of Child Services. At five years old, we were both too young to understand what was going on in our parent's lives. I think Helene, your mother wanted you to return when you were ready. Don't give me that look, just hear me out. She left you some clues so you could find your way back, also I think it still grieves her a tad she had her heart broken here. Now, I highly doubt you and I will ever figure out why your mother ran away with you, but investigating the journal should help us put some demons to rest." Gazing into her eyes, the two teenagers blushed when Milou barked triumphantly, a large branch dangling from his mouth.

Helene laughed, and rewarded Milou with a liver treat as she took the branch and placed it inside a rubbish bin. Standing on his hind legs, Milou whimpered at the loss at his new chew toy but observed a rabbit across the quad. Nose twitching, the rabbit gave chase as Milou's terrier instincts kicked in. Baring his teeth, Milou growled and woofed before giving the land speed record a run for its money. Annoyed Milou would damage the grounds, Tintin whistled sharply and Milou trotted back, whimpering and downcast. Patting the dog's head, Tintin comforted him and they returned back to the flat to formulate a plan.

In between placing calls to the university, the Thom(p)sons and the office, Helene and Tintin were able to get access to the offices of the Physics department. Helene was ecstatic to discover her mother's files were all still there, although the filing cabinets were housed in one of the spare offices. During the day, the offices were occupied by staff, student teachers and administrative staff. While unlocked, suspicion was not to be aroused if anyone had ulterior motives towards Rosamund all those years ago. From the registrar, the physics offices currently housed the campus offices of three professors, Irina Belloq, Ernst Tolliver, and Cuthbert Calculus. The name of the third professor sounded familiar, however attempts to remember anything only brought on migraines. Concerned, Tintin wondered if it was a symptom leftover from the car accident, but Helene suggested that it was psychological. After all, her scant memories had been leading her along so far. Who was to say what would be exposed after retrieving the files?

It would be difficult for Tintin to go undercover as he had been roped into writing a series of fluff pieces about college life. Helene would have to do this on her own, but Tintin assured her he would be close by. Enrolling as a student, Helene would begin classes the following Monday when orientation meetings were finished. When Monday arrived, Helene arrived on campus nervous and excited. Tintin had advised her to be completely innocuous when looking for the files, have an excuse ready, and if all else failed use force. Glancing down at the loose piece of paper, Helene noticed that Professor Calculus was her advisor. _This is it, from the frying pan into the fire. Don't worry Mother, I'll find the rotten bastard who forced us to flee_, she promised silently.

Just then, a sharp gust of wind picked up and Helene spotted a yellowed document with numerous seals from the Holy Roman Empire flirt with the low lying tulip poplars. An older gentleman with large, owlish glasses, satchel filled with notebooks and a cigarette case was waving his arms about wildly, the document must have been his. Class did not begin for another hour, so Helene decided to give him a hand.

From where she was standing, Helene could spot the escaped document entangled in damp branches. Crawling up onto a rail, Helene was able to grab it and gently held it with her teeth as her feet slipped and was forced to climb down from the surrounding wall. Landing loudly, she gingerly handed the artefact to its flabbergasted master. Smiling she announced, "Bonjour Professor, here's your document. I hope it's still all right, I made sure not to rip it." Handing it to the man, she waved and began to make her way back towards the physics office when the man caught up to her.

Clapping his hand on her shoulder, he spoke, "Oh thank you, thank you, one thousand times thank you, little girl. You have no idea how valuable that document is to me, it's an original form 1789. Are you one of the new physics students, you look like more of a history scholar to me. Oh, silly me- I forgot to introduce myself. I am Hector Alembick, professor of Eastern European history. May I have the pleasure of learning your name, mademoiselle?" He bowed politely before tossing his cigarette to the ground.

Smiling, Helene introduced herself as Amelie DeGaul, a promising physics scholar. She explained she had transferred here from Cambridge, and had been hoping to meet with her advisor, Cuthbert Calculus before class started. Alembick informed her Cuthbert was lecturing in Berlin for the next week and a half, so she should get to class and arrange to meet him via the student teacher. Disappointed but satisfied, Helene replied that she would do so. Waving goodbye, she skipped off to class. Not what she had been hoping, but a friendly face in enemy territory would make her investigation much easier.

Seeing her off, Alembick sat down on a wooden bench under a statue of Saint Luke and lit another cigarette. Amelie was a pretty little sylph, he wished her luck in her field. If only Professor Dupont was here, he was certain they would hit it off. Leaning back, it dawned on him that the girl _did _bear more than a passing resemblance to his colleague. While he had not really developed a taste for physics, close intercollegiate friendships formed between different instructors. It had been that way with Alembick and Calculus's rising prodigy assistant, Rosamund Dupont. She had numerous theories regarding time travel, parallel universes and the like that were fantastic, but she was kind hearted and determined.

A blue jay perched on the statue and chirped at Alembick. He smiled, and his cigarette tumbled onto the ground. Nodding, he greeted the animal, "Well hello there, little one. Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you. Did you see that young girl earlier? She reminded me of someone I knew, someone Calculus was very fond of." He stopped speaking and sat up straighter as a door leading into the science laboratories slammed shut.

Stepping out from the shadows was a tall gentleman, entirely clad in red, a pince-nez perched atop his beaklike nose. He had an aristocratic air about him, but his aura also carried whiffs of self-importance, genteelness, upper-crust manners and just a touch of ruthlessness. This man was Ivanovich Sakharine, professor of Russian-Soviet History and Culture. He was also a collector of antiques, and something of a predator.

Sakharine seemed to be able to figure out when something was going on, and it really did not help that he eyed all the lovely, newly graduated assistants. Alembick had thought something had happened between him and Rosamund, but he could not be sure. Gossip always made rumours difficult to pin down. Right now, it seemed that Sakharine had caught him talking to the bird.

Strolling over to his fellow lecturer, Sakharine inquired, "Good morning, Hector. Fine morning, isn't it? I should say it is, I am in a mind to purchase a country estate one of these days, making the commutes much simpler with the Teutonic overlords increasing the toll pay. Who's the young lady you were chatting with?" He hid a smile as Alembick flatly denied speaking to any young woman.

Finally, Alembick sputtered furiously, "Now look here, Sakharine! I mind my own business when it comes to my co-workers personal affairs, but you should know better. Eyeing women old enough to be your daughter, for shame! For starters, I was under the assumption you were going around with Bianca Castifiore, and the girl is a new physics students." By now, Hector's face was the shade of the tulips as he inhaled deeply.

Sakharine nodded with a vague disinterest, so the girl speaking to Alembick was just another student. He would let Hector keep his secret for now. He would get to the heart of the matter, he always did. Rarely did Alembick get so damn worked up about the female students, so what was it about this one that was different?

Neither of them was allowed to dwell on their encounters much longer because the much distressed dean of History bolted out from her offices and loudly lectured them for bailing on graduate classes and threatened sacking unless they reached their posts. Both men paled slightly, mumbled half-hearted apologies and rushed off to their expectant students.


	7. Chapter 6: Various Findings Detailed

The Girl with the Eye Patch

A Science Fiction Romance

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Happy Saint Patrick's Day and warm wishes for a happy Passover and Easter to all my loyal readers. Big hugs and chocolates to crayonsruletheworld for her thoughtful reviews. If you get the chance, check out her story "It Started out as a Feeling". Again, I only own Helene and her mother. All other characters belong to their respected owners.

Suggested Soundtrack: The Letter that Never Came- Thomas Newman, The Days Between/Princess Leia's theme- John Williams

Chapter 6: Various Findings Detailed

Stepping into the large lecture hall, Helene sat in a row towards the front amongst the two dozen or so science students whispering amongst themselves in either Flemish or Walloon. Occasionally, a comment or two would be made in English followed by uproarious laughter, which would get a scowl from the Aryan thug leaning in the doorway. Apparently, university lectures were not free from constant observation.

Turning around, a flaxen haired girl inquired to Helene, "I haven't seen you around campus before. Are you new? I'm Natalia Dellacroix, third year honours physics students. Ulrich is supposed to be here soon, that's when class will start. Oh, Ulrich Richter is the student teacher. What do they call you?" Helene smiled and introduced herself as Amelie DuGaul. Natalia managed to introduce her to the other female students when a lean man nearing thirty entered the room.

His hazel eyes warmed up when he spotted his students and his thin lips formed a lopsided grin. Clearing his throat, he announced, "Bonjour and good morning students. I am Ulrich Richter and I will be substituting for Professor Calculus. For those of you who are new, this is Physics 367, Nuclear Physics and Physical Reactions. Looks like everyone is here, ah Miss DuGaul! I am pleased to see you found it here. Please look on with Natalia as we review the lecture from last class." Opening up a scarlet, honeysuckle and cobalt text book, Richter began to spout off factoids about half lives, radiation poisoning and ways to harness energy by exploiting quarks, neutrons and the like.

Having heard nearly everything relating to this field her whole life, Helene was able to keep up with the review and was able to answer correctly when called upon. Natalia was quite impressed to have the new girl as a rival; it was about time another girl was able to keep up with the boys in Professor Calculus's courses. Halfway through the class, a waif like blonde with corkscrew curls slowly closed her eyes at Ulrich, the words _Love You_ written on them. Clearly flustered, Ulrich stammered through a couple of sentences before ordering her to wash the words off. The class giggled and whispered as the girl sulked off to the lavatory and returned with clean eyelids.

By the time class had ended, Helene's notebook was filled with the notes she had taken along with her homework assignments. Her textbook was on loan from the campus library, a paper shortage was forcing students to share texts or use older editions that were possibly out of date.

Helene was going to seek out Tintin when Natalia waved to her and shouted, "Hey Amelie, where are you rushing off to? Me and the girls are going to the canteen for lunch. Would you like to join us?" She gestured to three or four other girls who smiled broadly at her; it was strangely comforting to be welcomed into this group. She was not wearing her eye patch, Tintin had been insistent about it, so she was feeling anxious about being rejected. After all, it wouldn't hurt to eat lunch with them. _After all, they have had classes with Calculus; I wonder what I could learn about him from them_, Helene thought as they tramped across several walkways, into the student's common building and into a recently refurbished dining room.

The smell of pot pies, soda bread and other local favorites along with German delicacies could be smelled from where they were standing. Natalia happily dragged her new friend towards the serving counters and once they had paid for their meals, the group sat down and prayed quietly before eating. Over the course of the luncheon, Helene inquired about Calculus and was told he was a dotty, but endearing old codger who was profoundly deaf but also quite aware of what was going on around him. He was a good teacher, fatherly in a way without being creepy.

Helene nodded as she swallowed her tuna salad sandwich. From what she had heard, Calculus sounded like a dear old fellow- she had nothing to fear. Now, off to search for her mother's missing files. Standing up, she excused herself and promised to have lunch with them again but she really did need to take care of something important. Waving, she flew from the dining room, back outside and towards the Physics department.

Even though it was only a couple of minutes after noon, the administrative staff was on lunch break and Professor Belloq and Professor Tolliver were grading papers or speaking to students about upcoming projects. Quietly slinking around the hallway, Helene was able to sneak into the empty offices. Jumping with joy, Helene cheered when she saw the filing cabinets. The walls were lined with them, they were unmarked and her mother's files could have been in any one of them. Bollux!

Grumbling about the insanity of the impeding search, Helene settled on searching the ones directly in front of her and examine them in a clockwise direction. Pulling a nail file out of her satchel, she picked the locks of the first three and began leafing through the different files. Over the years, many folders had accumulated and it was impossible to tell what they were for. Office expenses, student forms, security reports, honours courses information and certificates, syllabi, and other miscellaneous papers filled one after the other and Helene had hardly finished searching the first two when a nearby clock tower rang 14:00. She had class in ten minutes, and the office was a mess! Hastily shutting the drawers, Helene dashed out a side door and managed to evade the professors and other staff members before reaching her next class.

Upon her arrival back at the flat later that afternoon, Helene complained to Tintin and Milou what a pain it was to sift through paperwork when there was something she really needed to find. On top of that, she had made some acquaintances with her female classmates and had met one the history professors, Hector Alembick. Feeding Milou some lentil soup, Tintin commented Professor Alembick was well known in Brussels as something as an expert in sigillography.

Helene cocked her head in confusion, "Sigillography? What on earth is that?"

"It's the study and documentation of seals from different royal dynasties and the like. There was article I read about him once, and his collection of seals from the Vatican and the Holy Roman Empire was truly amazing."

Helene nodded, collecting and analyzing seals from past centuries sounded like an interesting hobby, somewhat like collecting stamps and coins. She spoke about the student's off eye art and both laughed about it. It was amazing what things people would do when they were in love. After going to bed, Helene wondered if she really did love Tintin. After all, it had been a few weeks since she had returned, but did she need to give it more time? Unknown to her, Tintin was grappling with the same feelings.

Helene and Tintin's undercover investigation at the university continued without problem, at least until Calculus finally returned from Berlin. By then, spring was nearly over and it was almost June. Helene had searched nearly all the file cabinet until just one remained, and it was so dust covered and dented her gut instinct was screaming to open it. However, Natalia had guided Helene into a weekly study session on campus, and then there were the obligatory allegiance rallies to Hitler and the puppet-Belgian government. Also, Tintin had been drafted by the Thom(p)sons to solve a bizarre series of home invasions near one of the red light districts. He had been very uncomfortable going there, and swore he would never set foot in another brothel as long as he lived.

At long last, Helene found what she was looking for. It was early in the morning, and none of the professors had arrived yet. Slipping past the janitorial staff, Helene gingerly wiggled the lock and the drawer popped open with an ear-splitting rough screech. Wincing, she quickly glanced around and when nobody came bursting in, she dove in. Sure enough, the files were yellow and flaking. The dates coincided with her mother's diary, but none of them bore her handwriting. About to give up, Helene spotted something behind the drawer. Above the lower level of shelf, there was a manila envelope with the words _Time and Relative Dimensions In Situ_. It was the missing papers.

Forcing her hand back down into the cavern, she managed to extract it but as she was leaning over on a filing cabinet, Helene lost her balance and over they fell. Helene winced, her arm was scratched and she was rather out of breath as the cabinets stopped tipping. Slowly righting herself, Helene allowed herself to feel the envelope. Praying nobody had heard her, she backed out the main door to the office and closed it slowly when a gentle sounding voice inquired, "My stars, young lady. You're bleeding, are you all right?" Spinning around in shock, Helene found herself face to face with Cuthbert Calculus.

Natalia was correct, there was something fatherly about him, but Helene was certain he was not her biological father. There was something very familiar about him, but a migraine sent her to the ground as she clutched her head in pain. Concerned, Calculus escorted her into his office where she was given seltzer water and some aspirin. Helene bandaged her arm and thanked him and was about to leave, but Calculus stopped her.

"Please sit down for a minute, Miss DuGaul. You may only have a flesh wound, but it was on the deep side so I am going to apply some iodine and gauze to prevent infection. I understand you are new here, why on earth were back in that office? That is our department archive; you can request paperwork from the bursar out front. What is that envelope?" Helene quickly hid it in her satchel and gave him a sharp look.

Calculus gazed at the girl, she really was the spitting image of Madam Professor Rosamund Dupont, but Rosamund had vanished a decade earlier, as had her daughter. Suddenly it dawned on him that the young woman in front of him was indeed his former friend's daughter all grown up. What was Helene doing back here? One thing was obvious; she was now in grave danger. Now was not the best time to speak of such things, if Helene had returned than sooner or later she would learn the truth and hopefully avoid Sakharine.

Nodding, he wished Helene a good day and after she left he made a quick telephone call. "Hello, Hector? It's me, Cuthbert. Do you remember those papers Rosamund asked me to burn? Well, I never did and now her daughter has them in her possession. What, you met her already? My stars, she's already in grave danger. Do not take that tone of voice with me- we all made that promise not to speak of the events, not when Gorges Remi vanished in Bratislava or when Rosamund joined him." He hung up the phone, and wept.

Finding Tintin and Milou outside the main gates, Helene leapt into his arms and hugged him. Laughing she announced, "Tintin, Tintin! I finally found them, Mother's missing pages. Now we can figure out what she was working on!" Linking arms, they strolled back into town to examine the pieces of paper.


End file.
